


Lands Beyond

by holy_milk



Series: Arda Remade [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Arda Remade, Gen, Non-Linear Narrative, or have they?, the descendants of Indis have been erased from the timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:28:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22118650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holy_milk/pseuds/holy_milk
Summary: “They say that there’s nothing to be grievous about in death,” she said. “That death is only the beginning of a new journey, the one that takes us all to lands beyond, new and unexplored.”Nelyafinwë Maitimo doesn't know why his life in the bliss of Arda Healed feels so incomplete.
Series: Arda Remade [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1592101
Comments: 8
Kudos: 61





	Lands Beyond

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HewerOfCaves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HewerOfCaves/gifts).
  * Inspired by [We Live a Lie](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20553878) by [HewerOfCaves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HewerOfCaves/pseuds/HewerOfCaves). 



The sun had already started to set when he caught the first glimpse of the white house on the hill and quickened his pace. He had been walking on the side of the road for the last hour, shoes in hand, enjoying the feeling of cool lush grass against his bare feet.

A few feet ahead, the road took a sharp turn to the right and crawled up the hill, and, sure enough, his younger brother was standing there with his hands on his hips and his pale eyebrows drawn together reproachfully. 

“Well,” he said dryly once Maitimo came up to him, “for a moment there I started to think you’d been mauled by a bear, but then, that would have been almost too polite of you.” 

“The only time I was in danger of being mauled by a bear was when you insisted of keeping one in the room next to mine,” Maitimo outstretched his hands. “And I’m happy to see you too, Tyelko.”

Not able to keep up the pretense anymore, Tyelkormo broke into a wide grin and flung himself onto his brother’s neck, nearly knocking him down to the ground. Maitimo hugged him back, patting his shoulder somewhat awkwardly. 

“What’s new?” he asked once the two of them let go of each other and started walking up the path to the house.

“Not much,” Tyelkormo admitted. “Mom’s busy with a project and has barely left her workshop in the last few days. Dad’s been making sure she eats and gets some sleep, though, so it should be fine. I told her you’d be coming home, so she may take a break for you—although I’m not really sure she was paying attention… And I think,” his voice dropped to a dramatic whisper even though there was no one else in sight, “that Curvo is seeing someone, but he refuses to talk about it. But don’t tell anyone.”

Maitimo dropped his head to hide his smile. If even Tyelkormo had started suspecting that Curufinwë was hiding something, then the rest of their brothers must have known about it for a very long time. 

“I won’t,” he promised out loud.

“Good. Also, Kano is staying with us, he came as soon as he got the news—and he brought the kids. The twins are growing fast, you won’t believe it when you see them—” 

“Which twins?” Maitimo asked. It would have been a strange question to ask a few years earlier. 

“Oh, all of them,” Tyelkormo gestured vaguely, grinning.

Just as the shadow of the house fell over the brothers, a tall redheaded woman in a dusty apron emerged from the front door and froze on the porch, staring. Then she let out a weak cry and strode towards them. 

“She did pay attention!” Tyelkormo exclaimed, surprised, as his elder brother was pulled in yet another rib-crushing embrace.

Maitimo said nothing, pressing his forehead against the top of his mother’s head for a moment. She smelled of sweat, dust, and cinnamon. He looked up over her shoulder to see his father hovering a couple of steps behind her, his features lit with joy and delight, and the assortment of dark-haired figures filing out of the house. He smiled.

“Shh,” he whispered to Nerdanel, who had started sobbing quietly into his tunic. “I’m home.”

* * *

“You’re so big!” Maitimo exclaimed, picking up one his nephews. The child giggled and wiggled in his arms, demanding to be put back where his twin sat on the ground, sucking on his thumb and looking up at them quizzically. “Tyelko was right, I can’t believe it.”

Makalaurë was glowing with pride, as if the rapid growth of his children was his personal achievement.

“You wouldn’t be so surprised if you spent less time wandering away from home,” Carnistir pointed out, but Maitimo only laughed.

“You are right as usual, little brother,” he said.

They had had supper together in the marvelous, even if a bit unkempt, garden at the back of the house—Nerdanel had joined them as well, to everybody’s joy and delight—and now sat or lay sprawled on assorted chairs, stools, benches, or on the ground under the cloudless starlit sky. The air was pleasantly cool after the day’s heat and filled with children’s laughing and giggling as Pityo and Telvo played tag with the younger set of twins. Tyelkormo’s dog, Huan, padded over to Maitimo and put his head in the Elda’s lap, waiting patiently for a treat and a scratch.

“That’s enough catching up with family news, don’t you think?” Fëanáro asked, leaning back in his chair. “How was your journey? What kept you away from home for so long?”

Maitimo spent a few moments staring into rich red wine in his goblet before replying, “Research.”

Fëanáro and Nerdanel exchanged glances.

“I was exploring the flora of the south-western region. It’s surprising, really, that is has been overlooked for so long, I’ve discovered quite a handful of peculiar species that—"

“I didn’t know you took an interest in botany,” Nerdanel said, baffled.

“I dabble in many things,” Maitimo replied evasively and hastened to change the subject before any more questions could follow, “But if you want to hear the most interesting part, Moryo, I’ve brought you a detailed account of a Mannish village’s funeral rite.”

“A funeral rite!” cried Carnistir, who up until this moment had been engrossed in a conversation with Tyelkormo and hardly paid attention to his eldest brother’s story. Mannish cultures were his main field of study, and he was avid for accounts and descriptions of rituals and ceremonies he hadn’t had the chance to observe firsthand. “I didn’t know you had friends among Men.” 

“I don’t, not really,” Maedhros replied, “I was just passing by.”

* * *

He was standing beneath a big oak, hidden in its shadow, and watching silently. He wasn’t hiding on purpose, though, he just didn’t want to draw attention to himself. And, on top of that, he did feel like he was prying.

He had visited this village earlier in the day to replenish his supplies and, at the time, he didn’t really mean to linger there. The people were friendly and welcoming, but he had already planned to come all the way to the river that flowed a couple of leagues to the south and spend the night there. Yet as soon as he stepped on the path leading away from the village, he caught the sight of a procession, clad in white and blue and headed towards the village graveyard, and, as if pulled by some invisible force, he followed.

It was unsettling, in a sense, to watch such a clear manifestation of mortality—the Eldar seldom had to deal with it, and only if they dwelled close enough to Mannish settlements.

“Elves are a rare sight at funerals,” Maitimo started when a soft voice pulled him from his thoughts. He turned around to see a young woman—at least she looked young to him—with auburn hair and sun-kissed skin, barely reaching his shoulder.

She gave him a small, apologetic smile.

“I didn’t mean to startle you. I thought you’d hear me coming up, being an Elf and all that.” 

“I was just thinking,” he replied. 

She tilted her head slightly to the side, looking up at him with curiosity.

“You don’t have to hide in the shadows,” she said. “You can come out and join us, if you want.”

“I didn’t think it would be appropriate,” Maitimo admitted. “I don’t know anyone here—to tell the truth, I don’t even know who’s being buried.”

“It’s my grandmother.”

“Oh,” Maitimo shifted uneasily. He was not entirely sure what to say to someone who had just lost a loved one. “My condolences. It must be a terrible loss.”

“It is,” the woman replied quietly. And then, “I’m going to miss her.”

Maitimo turned away as he saw her eyes fill with tears and fixed his gaze on the people gathered around the newly dug grave as they started to sing. The words were in a tongue unfamiliar to him, but the tune sounded hopeful and uplifting.

“They don’t seem to be grieving,” Maitimo heard himself say.

The woman shook her head slowly.

“They say that there’s nothing to be grievous about in death,” she said. “That death is only the beginning of a new journey, the one that takes us all to lands beyond, new and unexplored.”

Maitimo watched as she brought a hand to her face to quickly wipe at her eyes.

“I don’t see how that’s supposed to comfort those who are left behind,” she said quietly. “What’s the point in her going on a new journey if I can’t be with her anymore?”

He had nothing to say to that.

* * *

At some point during the night an impromptu poetic battle broke out between Fëanáro and his second son, and Maitimo took the opportunity to pull Curufinwë to the side while everyone was distracted.

“A little bird has brought me an interesting news,” he whispered, smiling. “Is it true you’re seeing someone?”

Curufinwë gave him a sheepish lopsided grin.

“I won’t deny nor confirm any of your speculations,” he said firmly. “Stick around, and you’ll see for yourself.”

“I knew it!” Maitimo exclaimed, ruffling Curufinwë’s hair, and his brother could not help but laugh. “I’ll stick around for that, alright.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Curufinwë said, his eyes glinting. 

They fell silent as their family burst into wild cheering. Fëanáro, laughing, admitted his defeat as many hands clapped Makalaurë’s back and shoulders. Maitimo watched the scene with a smile.

“How was your journey, anyway?” he heard Curufinwë asking in a low voice.

Maitimo raised an eyebrow at him.

“Weren’t you listening?”

“Yet I still have the feeling there’s more to it than you’re letting on,” Curufinwë gave him a pointed look. “A truth for a truth?” 

Maitimo gave a little chuckle, shaking his head.

“What is it that you want to know?”

Curufinwë pursued his lips for a moment.

“What were you looking for, really? I know it wasn’t some peculiar plants or bits of Mannish wisdom.”

Maitimo shrugged, nonchalant.

“You know what they say, little brother. Sometimes the journey is the destination.” 

Curufinwë blinked and let out a dubious chuckle. 

“Did you at least learn anything from it?”

“Oh, I learnt many things,” Maitimo said, laying a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “The first of them being how much I miss you all when you’re not around.”

* * *

By the time Maitimo made it to the river the sun had already dipped below the horizon.

He got undressed quickly and silently, leaving it a neat pile on the bank, and stepped into the cool dark water. The river was deep enough that just a couple of steps in he was already submerged to the chest. There he lay on his back upon the glistening surface of water and let the slow flow carry him along, gazing up at the sky and the first stars blinking down at him.

The journey that takes us all to lands beyond. 

He wondered where that could be.

“Quite a day, wasn’t it?” he heard a voice saying. 

Maitimo turned his head towards the sound. Walking along the bank was a tall figure that looked like an Elda but did not feel like one. His long dark hair was braided with silver, and his bare feet left a slightly shimmering trail on the grass.

“Lord Ulmo,” Maitimo said curtly. Even though he had been expecting him, now he thought that he would rather be left alone.

“It’s good to see you here at last,” the Vala said. “You’ve been delaying your coming.”

“I had other matters at hand,” Maitimo replied. It was not exactly a lie as far as he was concerned.

“Or perhaps you've changed your mind?” Ulmo’s voice was serene and distant like the sea.

Maitimo stared up at the endless void of the sky. He could already feel the familiar dull tightening in his chest, a longing that he’d tried so hard to ignore over the years. That would grow stronger and abate but never go away.

“I haven’t,” he said at last. “I want to know. I just had to make sure that I do.”

There was silence for a while.

“What do I have to do?” Maitimo asked, feeling nervous despite himself.

“Nothing,” Ulmo said simply. “Encamp by the river. Rest and sleep. The rest will ensue.”

Once on the bank, Maitimo had to walk upstream back to where he had left his belongings.

“Why here, though?” he asked, drying himself with a towel. “Why Sirion? I might have come sooner if I hadn’t had to travel all the way to the west.”

“Why?” Ulmo echoed musingly, smoothing out his white robes. “Perhaps it’s pure sentimentality. Old people are usually allowed to indulge in that, and I, by all standards, am very old indeed.”

Maitimo stared at him, confused, but the expression on the Vala’s face was unreadable, and for some reason he felt that that was about as much as the Lord of Waters would let on to him.

He lay down, facing the sky, and the last thing he saw before darkness descended upon him was the silver glittering in Ulmo's hair.

**Author's Note:**

> I have LOTS of ideas for this version of Arda Remade and very little time to write them all down at the moment, so subscribe to the series if you want more. I can't say when it'll be updated, but it probably will.


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